In the early hours of Saturday morning I woke up to an uninvited guest in the house. In fact by the time I realized it had gained entry it was already in the bedroom.
The uninvited guest had obviously followed me home from the previous day. Either from the Toys R Us in Woodmead or possibly the Dischem. Who knows, it might have latched onto me in Pick 'n Pay. I have no idea how long it had scoped the house out, or decided which one of us it was targeting. Maybe it wasn't even planned. It was more than likely just a random choice.
All I know is that at 8pm on Friday night there were three of us, Emma, Mark and myself in the house. Seven if you count the dogs. But by 2am Saturday morning there were eight of us. I don't know what time it had gotten in or where it had hidden itself, planning its attack. But it quietly snuck in when none of us were looking and made itself at home for a while.
We made dinner not noticing it. We ate dinner, still unaware. I put Emma to bed, ignorant of the stranger in the house. Mark went off to bed. I cleaned up, got ready for bed, locked up the house, unaware that I was simply locking it in. It was already in the house and wasn't going anywhere.
I know Emma stirred around about 12am or so, but she seemed to settle back to sleep quite quickly. I heard one of the dog's, or Mark, snore. Not sure which. Two of the dogs sleep in our room, the other two have their own special places. But none of them barked as the intruder made its way upstairs. I thought I heard the stair creaking, but thought nothing of it. Houses move all the time, so I hear.
Suddenly I sat upright. Straight up. Something was in the room. I'd like to say I almost pooed myself when I realized I wasn't alone. The truth is I already had. Pooed myself that is.The uninvited guest was a stomach bug and what I thought was just going to be a little passing of wind was actually a fart with intent. It was a SHART!
Discussing this breaks the first rule of the Shart Club. You do not talk about sharts. You do not ever admit to sharting. In fact no one will even admit to them existing. As I write this I'm breaking all the rules. Some people never experience a shart in their entire life, but I have. It's unpleasant. Very. But it happened.
2009 B..E. (Before Emma) I wouldn't be talking about this, but since she came along there's not much that's sacred, in terms of what I discuss anymore. I've been puked on, peed on and I've had poo shot at me. I swam with turdles, hippo-poo-tamuses and have had a shart circle me in the bath.
The uninvited stomach bug was snug as a bug in my colon and the shart was only the beginning. After a shower, I woke Mark up to change the sheet. He was bleary eyed and asked what had happened. As I pulled the sheet from under him I told him Emma had messed in the bed. "But," he said looking around, a little dozed and confused, "She's not in our bed!" "That's because I've just put her back in her own bed." I answered, a little too aggressively.
While I was putting the sheet in the washing machine I felt THAT feeling. THAT one that starts in your tummy and moves all the way to your throat. The one where you can feel the saliva building. The one where you know it's too late. You know you're going to throw up. I charged for the bathroom downstairs and got to the toilet just in time. But as I was kneeling down, ready to worship at the porcelain throne, I felt an all too familiar from the other side. Whatever was inside me was about to come out from both ends and I didn't know what to do. I could spin around really quickly, hoping to the get the timing right, knowing the consequences if I didn't but I didn't have the energy, or time, to make the decision.
I was about to shart myself once again!